Until Next Time Page 4

  Teddy complained the other week about her brothers. I’m starting to understand why we’re not her favorite people. According to her, we’re a bunch of playboy bachelors who can’t commit to anything but our businesses.

  Maybe we should start with Dad, who keeps dating women younger than my sister. He changes them by the season. No wonder we’re so fucked up. Our role model isn’t any different from us.

  “Well, I’ll come by another day. Do you think the weekend might work?”

  “I don’t live here. I don’t know his schedule.”

  “So, you’re the tight ass out of the two of you.”

  No. I’m not, but… “Sure, let’s go with that.”

  Neither Burke nor I are tight asses. That’s a title designated for our eldest brother, Kingston. This woman doesn’t need to know about our family tragedy. Everyone would think it was losing Archer, but no. King is a walking tragedy. Not because anything tragic has happened to him. He’s just infuriating, and at times, he behaves as if he was our father. He’s not fun.

  I fire up a text to Burke when she’s out of sight.

  Zach: Your friend would like to give you her phone number. I just gave her your cell. It seemed more practical.

  When the phone rings immediately, I laugh. He’s so easy to taunt.

  “Yeah?”

  “Tell me you’re fucking kidding.”

  I laugh.

  “Fucker. That’s not funny.”

  “You seem…upset.”

  “I’m serious about this, Zachary.”

  “Next time you leave a present in your bed, give me a heads-up. Better yet, don’t bring them home.”

  “What am I, an animal?”

  “Pretty much, but let’s not digress,” I say as I go to the second floor and check on his new friend. I find her scribbling stuff on the bathroom mirror with red lipstick. Not just stuff, her phone number with a note. Pookie Boo, I had an amazing night. Call me. Sonny.

  She spends a long time drawing a big red heart below her phone number.

  I wait until she finishes her masterpiece before I ask, “Ready to leave?”

  “Yes, I couldn’t find a pen, but I figured this would send him a message.”

  Between the lines, it reads, I want to be Mrs. Burke St. James.

  I pretend to admire her handiwork. “Clever. There’s no way he can miss it.”

  She claps with her fingertips and bounces lightly. “I’ll see you soon.” Her hopeful tone makes me want to say, “Oh, honey.”

  Once I escort her out of the house, I look at the door and laugh. There’s no shame in that walk. It was all poise and self-assurance. In another life, I’d have liked to hang out with her.

  “You’re thirty-two. Grow up, Burke.”

  “Should I become a monk, like you?” He laughs.

  “You think you’re funny, but you’re not.”

  “Thank you for getting rid of her.”

  “Listen, I’m not judging you, but you might want to change your strategy. These women swear this is more than a one-nighter.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “I know, but they don’t. Knowing you, I bet you don’t tell them it’s a one-time thing. They live in this fantasy where they date the bachelor who might fall for them. What if they have the magic pussy that’ll make you change your ways?”

  “You’re insane,” he argues.

  “No. I’m dead serious. Try changing strategies.”

  “What if they don’t want to come home with me?”

  “For starters, try going to their place. You fuck, you leave. If they don’t like your conditions, then look for someone who shares your mindset.”

  “Since when did you become the logical one?”

  I shiver because he’s right. “Who knows?”

  “Anything else before I go back to work?”

  “Nah, I’m heading to Denver. Wait, maybe warn your housekeeper about the lipstick on your mirror,” I suggest.

  “Lipstick?”

  “That’s where she left you her phone number. She’s hoping you call later today, Pookie Boo.”

  I laugh and hang up without waiting for his comeback.

  My family swears that being close to Callie’s family is weird. It’s not at all. They’re pretty cool. Edna and Octavio, her parents, are retired archeologists. They traveled all around, and I could listen to their stories for hours. Their children and their spouses are just as fun, and we have a lot in common. They like to help others around the world.

  Persy and Ford Chadwick live on a ranch thirty minutes west of Denver. The house is one-hundred-percent sustainable. Eros and his wife, Liv, are building something similar. The one-hundred-acre lot is next to Persy and Ford’s ranch. They plan on growing their food and recycling everything, even the water.

  Persy, who is an influencer, a therapist, and a podcaster, has her offices and studio in the house. Since I’m visiting on a Wednesday, I get to listen to the show. She also asked me to participate. She wants me to talk about coffee. Eros and Olivia are here to discuss sustainable homes.

  “What is it this time?” Eros asks. “How to use the tickle me clitto? I can give her audience a tip or two on oral—no need for toys. I’m good at it, aren’t I, babe?”

  Liv slaps his arm playfully. “Stop it.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Stop mocking your sister. Also, you’re not talking about our sex life on the air,” she berates him.

  “She mocked me for years. She still talks about her man-child, playboy brother as if he was an idiot.” He glares at Olivia. “I’m a married man. I shouldn’t be part of her propaganda. You should stop the nonsense instead of feeding her ideas.”

  Liv grins. “It’s fun to hear about this mythical Eros. I might leave you for him.”

  He takes her in his arms. “You wouldn’t dare, babe.”

  “I wouldn’t,” she agrees, pushing herself up on her tiptoes and kissing him.

  “You two are disgusting,” I complain.

  This is the downside of hanging out with them. They’re affectionate with their significant other. My siblings and I have never been big on PDA. Well, except for Archer. He’d had a steady girlfriend since middle school. Piper and Archer were disgustingly inseparable. Callie and I had a great sex life, but we weren’t that affectionate. I always thought it’d happen with time, but we ran out of time before we fell madly in love with each other.

  Is this why I avoid women? Because I’m afraid that maybe one of them will prove my theory and show me that I never loved my wife?

  “Okay, we’re going to record, but don’t interrupt. Pretend it’s live. That way, I don’t have to edit much,” Persy says before starting the show.

  Podcast Week 22 Season 9

  October 27th (Two and a half years after Callie died)

  “Hello, all you beautiful people. I’m Persy, and this is Life with Persy. Each week, I’m answering your questions about your relationships with your cat, your significant other, your parents, your siblings, and your roommate, to name a few.

  “Need to get along with a nosey neighbor from hell? There’s always a solution.

  “Did you marry the grump next door, and he’s driving you crazy? I have a trick or two to tame your man.

  “Does that cute guy from Tinder come with more baggage than you bargained for? We’ll talk it up and dish it out here.

  “I’ll offer advice, tactics, and tools that you can use in your daily life to create your own slice of happiness.

  “Just a reminder, this podcast is not suited for work, but you can play it almost everywhere else on your favorite podcast listening devices.

  “Welcome to our podcast. This week, we have a few guests with us who will talk about sustainable homes and the best way to prepare an espresso coffee. And since the holidays are close, we’re discussing family and how to decide where to spend those special dates. You can do what our family does every holiday. All the families get together to celebrate. In-laws come together
so the grandchildren can spend quality time with everyone, so stick around.”

  I stop recording and explain what’s happening to Eros, Liv, and Zach. “We’re taking this call first. After I’m done with her, we’ll record our segment. I’ll just edit it, so the caller is the last part of the show. Ready?”

  The three of them nod, and I start recording again.

  “Let’s read an email we got from a loyal listener.

  Dear Persy, I need help. My mom doesn’t have a life. It’s been years since my dad died. She says she’s not good at life and love. We listen to your show often, except when we have to turn it off because your content can be too...adulty. Since you’re an expert, I think you should help her find the right man.

  Thank you,

  Desperate in Seattle.

  P.S. Here’s my phone number so you can call us in case you choose this email. Please, pick me.

  “This is an interesting letter. Well, Desperate in Seattle, I’m thankful that you listen to us, and I understand that you have to turn off the show when things get adulty. I’m sure your children will be able to listen to it once they’re older. I have so many questions for you, and that’s why I’m calling you. I hope you’re ready.”

  “Hello,” a small voice answers.

  “Hi, this is Persy Brassard from the Life of Persy, can I—”

  “Oh my God, she chose my email. Miranda, she’s calling!”

  The child on the other side of the line is hysterically happy. I don’t think she’s aware that I’m calling someone else.

  “Umm, I’m trying to reach Desperate in Seattle or Matilda Wickerton,” I say, trying to get her attention so I can talk to her mother.

  “This is Matilda,” she answers.

  “How old are you, Matilda?”

  “I’m turning seven in December,” she says with such pride.

  “Umm, is your mom available?”

  “No. She’s working. That’s why we asked you to call us at this time. I’m not sure if she’s going to be happy about the email or the call.”

  I cringe and look up at Eros, who shrugs. I wish Nyx were here. She’s my legal counselor, and she’d know if I can talk to this girl.

  “Listen, sweetheart, I…I need to speak to an adult,” I mumble.

  “I’m old enough to speak for myself,” she states.

  “I bet you are, but legally, I need the authorization of an adult to continue this conversation.”

  “Hey, this is Miranda Wickerton. I’m her legal guardian when her mother is absent. You have my permission. I can send you something signed if you need it,” the woman on the other end offers.

  “Or I can do it.” The sound of the desperate male voice makes me wonder about Nyx’s latest idea to screen my callers and run background checks.

  “Who is that?”

  “Aiden Wickerton, my husband,” Miranda says.

  “I don’t know…”

  “You need to help this kid and her mom,” Miranda insists.

  I chew on my lip. Ford comes out of his office and leans against the wall shaking his head. I should hang up. These people could sue me or shut down my show if I’m not careful.

  “This is pretty unorthodox,” I state.

  “We understand, but Autumn needs an intervention,” Aiden states.

  “Mom needs a miracle.”

  “Matilda is right. She needs a miracle,” Miranda agrees.

  “Can you give me a second?”

  I mute the phone and sigh. “What if they aren’t real?”

  “They are real,” Zach says at the same time as Ford says, “Let them talk, and if you don’t like what they say, don’t upload the podcast.”

  He’s right. I unmute and continue with the call.

  “Okay, here’s the deal. We’ll take the call. Afterward, I’ll have my lawyer send you a release form. This show won’t air until I have the signed consent and my legal department approves it.”

  “That’s fair,” Aiden agrees.

  Ford nods once.

  “Okay, Matilda, tell me about your mom.”

  “Well, Mom needs a husband. At least a boyfriend. I’d like a dad too. All my friends have a dad. Even if they don’t live with them, they have someone. I don’t.”

  “Would you mind if I ask what happened to your dad?”

  “He died in a car accident.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you okay?”

  “It’s okay. I never met him, and I barely remember his face. We lost all his pictures in a fire, and his mom didn’t want to give us new ones.” Her voice is low. The pain of this kid is killing me. “It’s okay, though. Mom says he loved me a lot. I was his favorite girl.”

  I press a hand to my chest and hold my breath to prevent myself from bursting into tears. Ford walks toward me and kisses the top of my head. He knows I’m about to lose my composure. Once I feel like I can continue without crying, I ask, “Well, what do you want us to do for you, Matilda?”

  “I don’t know. I know that your boxes with the adult toys help her.”

  I can’t help myself. I burst into laughter, and so does Liv. “Okay, I’m sure a box might be helpful, but that won’t last long.”

  “She can always charge the toy,” Liv whispers.

  I shake my head.

  “Maybe you can convince her to go on Tinder or one of those apps. Maybe you can persuade her to stop working so much. She’s too busy to be happy.”

  I look up at Zach, who is also too busy to be happy. I know what she’s talking about, and if I could, I’d send them on a trip so they could be busy with each other and find happiness. I don’t suggest that because Zachary St. James is too stubborn. This woman needs someone who isn’t trying to save the world.

  “Okay, so you want us to play matchmaker. Am I getting this right?”

  “Maybe, I don’t know. I tried to listen to your old podcasts to learn how you met your husband, but those are for subscribers only. I don’t have a subscription. I can only listen to the new things when Mom is around, but she turns it off when she sees me.”

  I don’t blame her. My kids aren’t allowed to listen to Mommy’s shows. I’m not ashamed of them, but they’re too young to listen to sex talk. Way too young.

  “What does your mom do for a living?”

  “She goes to school. My grandma calls her an eternal student. She’s a bartender. Grandma wants her to get a husband. A rich one. But not one from her bar job. She says they’re losers.”

  “Your grandma has a lot of opinions,” I say, trying not to laugh. “Let’s focus on your mom then. She’s finishing her degree, and she works at a bar.”

  “She works on her computer too. She also makes things and sells them on Etsy.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “Crafts and jewelry. They’re pretty. She’s too busy to meet anyone.”

  “You’re right. With three jobs, it’s hard to go out and get to know new people. Your mom is an admirable woman. How about friends? Does she have any?”

  “She doesn’t have many, but my uncle Aiden and aunt Miranda might have a few.”

  “Setting up friends can be dangerous. We might need more information to determine a plan of action,” I suggest.

  “You’re not helping,” Matilda complains.

  “It’s not that simple, but I want to help you and your mom,” I assure her.

  “Are you sure? I just want Mom to be happy and for someone to read me bedtime stories when she’s not at home. She works every night.”

  My eyes are getting watery again.

  “And who stays with you while you sleep?”

  “Some nights, I stay at my aunt and uncle’s place. Other days, Grandma stays with me.”

  “Well, Matilda, I think we’re going to team up to find a way to give your mom a hand.”

  “Thank you. I knew you’d understand.”

  “Make sure your aunt and uncle send me the signed release. We’ll be contacting them soon.”

  I hang up a
nd continue the recording. “Well folks, you heard it, we have a new job as matchmaker. Now let’s move to our next segment: sex and coffee. We have the owner of Café Fusion to help us pair coffee with the best sex of your life, so stay tuned.”

  Chapter Six

  Zach

  I’m staring at the microphone in shock.

  When I’m around this family, I expect the unexpected. This call qualifies as two steps above surprising. What the fuck was that? Aiden Wickerton was my best friend from grade school. I remember Autumn well. When we were young, she’d follow us everywhere. She was a tiny thing with big glasses and a book under her arm.

  I imagine Matilda Wickerton being just like her mother. Long brown curls, amber-colored eyes, and a wicked smile. Smart like her mom, and I guess a warrior for the right cause.

  “That was…” It’s impossible to finish that sentence.

  “It was a cute disaster,” Persy says, staring at the screen of her computer while scribbling something on the pad next to it. “I need to edit the last names, and I won’t publish it until I get the signed release and the approval from my lawyer.”

  The phone rings immediately. Persy answers, “Hey, Nyx. You’re on speaker.”

  “I don’t approve,” Nyx says.

  “What?”

  “Your husband texted me, and I listened to part of the conversation you had with the kid. The next time you realize the caller is underage, hang up. Actually, we have to add that you have to be eighteen or older to submit an email to your website. I need to make sure that the uncle is the uncle.”

  “He is,” I confirm.

  Suddenly, all eyes are on me.

  “Who is that, and how do you know?” Nyx asks.

  “Hey, Nyx, this is Zach. I know Aiden. We went to school together. In fact, I know Autumn, and I can confirm that the kid sounds like her mother.”

  “I’m sure there are more Aiden Wickertons in the world,” she insists.

  “In the Washington state area, who has a sister named Autumn?”